


Down the Backs of Table Tops (and Ticket Stubs in the Attic)

by LadyLondonderry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Grimmy is a cat, M/M, Magic, WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 00:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3431102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLondonderry/pseuds/LadyLondonderry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's only two of them stuck to the house now, two souls tied to the walls and floor and pipes and appliances. Two souls stuck in a world that's moved on without them. Well, two souls and a cat.</p><p> </p><p>  <i>He holds up the red fabric for Harry to get a good look at."We're going to decorate!"</i></p><p> </p><p> <i>Harry thinks this might be an odd shut-ins version of retail therapy, and he looks to Grimmy for guidance on how to explain to Louis that this will not at all help his cause.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the Backs of Table Tops (and Ticket Stubs in the Attic)

**Author's Note:**

> This was a semester-long writing class project, so I just want yins to know that _twenty three people beta'd this_

Kitchen makes it back before sunrise, rattling the dirty utensils in the sink and the plates in the cupboard as he settles back into himself. Kitchen loves sunrise, his little window across from the sink giving a perfect view to the changing colours of the sky and the mourning doves that take their breakfast at the bird feeder. This time of the year, there's only about half an hour between the start of the sunrise and the stirring of the house's tenants, so Kitchen spends the time getting ready; nudging the dishes in the sink until they begin to wash themselves, giving a little jump to the pans in the cupboard so the frying pan readies itself for Kitchen's special egg in toast (it is Thursday, after all), setting the kettle to boil and little pushes and flicks here and there until everything is in tip top working order for the day.

There's a mist outside, so thick it almost obscures the view of the bird feeder. Kitchen has spent so many days gazing longingly out that window, watching the seasons change and the animals migrate, and today is no different. He takes deep breaths of the coffee brewing as he watches the sun force itself from what must have been an excellent night of sleep, the way it shines so brightly, and thinks of home. Thinks of distant memories of a bakery and a walk through the woods back to a warm cottage and a friendly face.

The first one to wake up is Dad. Dad likes to be very prompt; he's never one to hit snooze and has a love of reading the morning paper the second it hits the front step. Today is no different, and he wanders into the room in a tee shirt and sleeping shorts, the paper already open in his hand. Dad grabs a mug from the cupboard and pours himself some coffee mere seconds after the drip has stopped. He settles into the small kitchen table with a groan and busies himself with the news of the world.

The second one to wake up is Mum. Mum is more likely to hit the snooze alarm once or twice and Kitchen has from time to time heard the distant beeping of her alarm going off for almost half an hour before she finally wakes. She shuffles into the room with a bush of wild bedhead and heads straight for the whistling teapot, her eyes barely open enough to find her way there.

"Thanks for the tea, honey," she mumbles.

"Of course," Dad replies, not looking beyond the sports section. "This coffee is delicious as always."

She mumbles an affirmation and takes a sip of the strong bitter drink. Kitchen has been making egg in toast for a good ten minutes at this point, and six pieces of toast are stacked on a plate on the hob. Mum takes one for herself and one for Dad, on newly dried plates from the dish drainer, and sets them at the table.

"Kids'll be up soon," she says with a yawn. "I woke them up before I came down."

Dad hums in response and hands her the comics page.

There's silence for a bit and Kitchen slips some fruit onto their plates. Really, he reasons, if it wasn't for him, this whole family would be quite malnourished. No one ever seems to remember they have a fruit bowl.

Son and Daughter wander down not too long after and take much more egg in toast than they really should. Kitchen should learn to stop making so much, but baking is such a joy and he does love the smell of butter and eggs. They crowd around the table with Mum and Dad and Kitchen doesn't even try to sneak fruit onto their plates because they only complain or try to push it off again without Mum seeing.

Daughter checks her phone and Son stares longingly into space, clearly wishing he had never been woken up. The sound is only punctuated by sips of hot drinks and tapping at a touch screen. Kitchen slips glasses of milk to both the kids. Nobody notices his action, but Son immediately goes to drink his.

"I was thinking, honey," Mum says after a few minutes. "This kitchen is almost as old as the house is, don't you think it's about time for a renovation?"

Kitchen freezes. Everything freezes. The kettle stops its quiet whistle, the utensils in the sink stop soaking, the salt and pepper halfway to the kitchen table fall to the floor and crack.

"Mm," is all Dad says for a moment. "Well I suppose it is about time. I can look into the finance side of things today while I'm at work, but I bet that'll be feasible. We've already paid for this summer's vacation so anything left in savings is fair game."

Mum nods in agreement. "Precisely what I was thinking."

Small talk occasionally breaks the quiet breakfast as they discuss work and school, but Kitchen is still frozen. No, surely this can't be happening. Why now? Why would they do this to him? Every room in the house except the kitchen has been renovated over the years but he thought he was safe, thought his brick walls and coil heating completed the "Victorian" image perfectly. He thought he was safe.

He waits for the family to leave, and he doesn't push in their chairs behind them. He doesn't put the dishes in the sink and the half eaten food in the trash. He can't deal with that right now. For the first time in decades, he puts it off.

Instead, he takes the tuna out of the refrigerator. It's the nice, expensive kind, in oil instead of water because it helps fur coats shine. He dumps it unceremoniously into a bowl and then plays with the frequency of the whistle on the kettle until it's tuned into his own voice.

"Grimmy!" The kettle's whistle makes his voice so much more high pitched, but he hasn't ever found a better substitute. "Grimmy, please get your fuzzy butt down here! I need you!"

It's several minutes before Grimmy wanders in, as per usual, because Grimmy is a cat and prone doing things like licking himself inappropriately before he considers any course of action.

"Hello Kitchen," he purrs. "Who stuck a bee up your oven?" He sniffs at the tuna and takes a tentative lick, even though Kitchen knows that this is his favourite food and he has never done less than lick the bowl clean.

"There is absolutely no bee up my oven," Kitchen whistles. "But Dad and Mum started talking about renovating today over breakfast! Like it was no big deal!" Kitchen would be hyperventilating right now, if he had lungs. As it is, the silverware drawer begins to rattle and the garbage disposal briefly flips itself on and off.

"Okay, no big deal," Grimmy says in his calming purr. "What room is it this time? The front hall needs a fresh coat of paint, I noticed."

"No, no you don't understand!" Kitchen wails. "They're talking about renovating ME!" The whistle in of the kettle squeaks empty at the last word and Kitchen hurries to refill it with water.

Grimmy stops eating and gives Kitchen a sympathetic look, which is impressive considering he's glancing at an empty room. He arches his back and rubs his sides along the doors of the lower cabinets. "Oh Kitchen," he purrs, in an attempt to comfort. "Of course they would do no such thing. I'm sure they'll change their mind in a day or two, just try to bear through it until they forget, okay?"

Kitchen sniffs, trying to stop the tap running. It doesn't work. "They're not going to forget this time, though," he whistles. "They've redone every room in the house except this one; it was only a matter of time."

He thinks of the bedrooms, the washroom, each of them dark and lifeless now as if there was never a personality attached to them to begin with. He doesn't want to be just another lifeless room, empty like the others.

As if reading his mind, Grimmy speaks up. "Do you want me to go talk to him for you? Tell him about the renovation?"

Kitchen nods by way of the dish towel hanging below the sink, flopping listlessly up and down. "Please. I don't want to have to wait for tonight."

Grimmy takes a last bite of tuna and saunters off. "I'll be back and it'll all be fine, really Kitchen. There's no way anybody could bear to get rid of you."

 _Yeah_ , thinks Kitchen, _but they won't KNOW that's what they're doing._

He passes the time slowly, cleaning the breakfast dishes and straightening everything. He forces the faucet to stop dripping and dumps out the leftover coffee. By the time Grimmy is back, Kitchen is spotless and he's spending his time worrying and masking his fear by intently watching the birds at the bird feeder outside.

"Kitchen," Grimmy purrs, rubbing up against the table.

"Grimmy," Kitchen replies. "Eat your fish." He's added some spices to it, and it smells so good that even Mum and Dad would try it (they have, before).

Grimmy complies so there's silence in the room as he munches his way halfway through the bowl before looking up.

"I talked to Attic," Grimmy finally supplies.

"Mhmm," Kitchen hums along. Attic would know. Attic knows everything.

"He says keep calm, first of all."

 _Makes sense_ , Kitchen thinks.

"He also says that he has a plan."

 _Thank the Lord_ , Kitchen thinks.

"He wants to remind you again not to panic."

Kitchen takes a deep breath and exhales hot air through the vents. "Thanks, Grimmy," he says. 

Grimmy stretches his front legs and then his hind legs. "Good. It's time for my morning nap. I'll see you for dinner, Kitchen."

He stalks off and leaves Kitchen alone. _Keep calm_ , Kitchen thinks. He can do that. 

As the day wears on, he's able to block out most of the thoughts about a possible renovation. He meditates on the view from the kitchen window, putting himself into a sort of trance. It's the closest he ever gets to sleeping. He misses sleeping, misses dreams that are more than just daydreams or reflections of the past. Sometimes he pretends he can dream, but all he comes up with to fill his mind is memories of times long faded, and those make him a little too sad.

Kitchen spends most of the afternoon on autopilot, preparing snacks for the younger ones (carrots with dip, sliding the chips farther back into the pantry when they go looking). He brews tea for Mum when she comes home, and pours a glass of ginger ale for Dad. Dinner is a simple shepherd’s pie, cooking in the oven with the timer on the refrigerator set to go off, when Dad and Mum seat themselves at the table a little early.

"I've looked at the figures," Dad says, kissing Mum on the cheek.

"Oh yes? That sure was fast."

Dad looks proud of himself. "Well, no point doing things halfway is there? As I said, I looked at the numbers and I believe there's plenty enough for a renovation in the account."

Mum squeals and wraps her arms around Dad's neck. "Oh that's wonderful! I'm sure this place will look so beautiful with a bit of sprucing up!"

Dad nods, pulling out his phone. "I started looking at possibilities. All new appliances, of course. I was thinking gut it and start fresh. There are some really nice examples of taking out this wall to the living room and making an open floor plan with an island."

They pass the phone back and forth, discussing options. Neither of them notice the timer that stops ticking, the dinner that starts burning. Eventually, Son and Daughter come in complaining about the smell. Mum and Dad find the charred shepherd’s pie in the oven and blame it on their forgetfulness. They go out for pizza instead.

Kitchen can't stop his tap dripping this time. His freezer is leaking too. He gives up and just embraces the puddle starting to form on the tiled floor.

A hiss snaps him out of his misery, along with a growled, "Kitchen!"

"What," Kitchen wails, projecting his voice through the watery taps.

"Pull yourself together," Grimmy demands. "Remember what Attic said? Keep calm! You're not going to help your case by bursting a pipe all over the floor! And you've gotten my favourite dish towel with the pigs all soaking wet!"

Grimmy does love the dish towel with the pigs.

That shakes up Kitchen a bit. Attic said keep calm. This is not keeping calm. Trust Attic. He breathes in deep, fluttering the leaves of the spider plant on the windowsill. Attic said keep calm. He concentrates on the sink and freezer until they still. Keep calm. _Calm_. Slowly, the water on the floor around Grimmy evaporates.

Grimmy hisses again and shakes out his fur. "Gross! All that moisture's in my fur now! I'm going to Attic, it's dry up there." He stalks out in a huff, and Kitchen feels a little sorry. But only a little. Grimmy sleeps all day.

Kitchen counts down the hours until nightfall. It comes too late this time of year. When dark finally falls, the family is back so Kitchen has to wait until they're all in their beds and not roaming the hall. He has to wait through this every night, of course, but this time it feels like it takes years longer.

Grimmy finds him when they're all finally asleep, to let him know. Kitchen thanks him and draws inward. He draws himself into himself; away from the pipes, the appliances, the utensils. Away from the walls, the floor, the table. Away from the kitchen and into himself.

"Hello Harry," Grimmy meows.

Harry smiles at him, his eyes only a little wet from all the tears shed. "Hello Grimmy. Would you like a ride?" He holds out his arms and sure, they're a little ethereal, a little see-through, but Grimmy's long since learned not to mind. He jumps up, and claws Harry's arms a little as he gets comfortable.

"Don't you dare drop me," Grimmy warns.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry snorts. "I haven't ever!"

He carries Grimmy up one flight of stairs, down the hallway past Mum and Dad's bedroom, past Son and Daughter's bedrooms and the communal bathroom, to the second set of stairs that lead up to the small slanted room that makes up the third floor. Grimmy grips into his arms more tightly than he thinks is necessary with his claws, but he’s never been able to convince the cat he won’t drop him. Cats are notoriously untrusting. 

"Attic!" Harry calls softly. "Attic, where are you?"

The attic is filled with boxes of all sorts of forgotten memorabilia. Large picture frames line the walls, a crib and a high chair sit in one corner, a wardrobe in another. "Just a mo'!" comes a response from one of the cardboard boxes closer to Harry.

He is clearly looking for something, and a minute later when he pops out of the box, it's with a handful of red fabric.

"Hello Louis," says Harry, feeling better than he has all day.

Louis is the opposite of Harry in every way. Where Harry is tall and slender, Louis is short and curvy. Harry's hair is long and curly, Louis's is straight and scruffy. Harry's eyes reflect a sort of misty green while Louis's shine with a sea blue.

"Harry!" Louis says. "Good thing you're here. Bad day, yeah?"

Harry nods a little miserably and goes in for a hug, which Louis grants. "No need for that, no need," he says when he pulls away. "I have a plan!"

"Yeah?" Harry asks, sniffling and breathing deep to keep the tears at bay.

"Of course!" says Louis. "You know me!" He holds up the red fabric for Harry to get a good look at. "We're going to decorate!"

Harry thinks this might be an odd shut-in’s version of retail therapy, and he looks to Grimmy for guidance on how to explain to Louis that this will not at all help his cause.

"No, hear me out," says Louis. "They want to renovate you, right? So all we have to do is beat them to it! We do some nice redecorating in the kitchen, and voilà, their every thought is taken up with how beautiful you look! No need to renovate now! Genius, right?"

Harry nods excitedly. He's no good with thinking in the moment like this, but thankfully Louis is. No one has ever tried to renovate the attic (because who would? Nobody lives up here except spiders and occasionally Grimmy), so Louis has never been afraid of being erased like the rest of the rooms have been. Neither Louis nor Harry really know what happens to those rooms when they're renovated, but they clearly lose their life force, and what was once a whole house of ghosts has dwindled to just the two of them over the years.

"I'll try anything," Harry says, taking the material.

"That's my boy!" Louis says, quickly shushed by Grimmy for how loud he's being. He grabs an open can of paint and a jar of what looks like door handles and they make their way downstairs.

As the night wears on, they do their best to decorate the kitchen like never before. There are new curtains on the window, Louis has Harry paint the cabinets while he installs new knobs onto the sink. They rearrange all the dishes for a "just moved in" feel, and generally try to clean the daylights out of it. 

Grimmy watches them with disdain, which is what cats do so no one pays him any mind.

Dawn comes and Louis is drawn back to his attic home. Harry becomes one with the room again. The changes they've made overnight take a little getting used to, like wearing new boots for the first time.

He makes omelettes for the family, a sunny food that should hopefully put them in a better mood to reconsider the renovations.

"You know," Mum says after she takes a bite. "You were right about getting rid of the wall. Something about this kitchen today makes everything feel claustrophobic."

Dad agrees. "Those knobs on the sink stick a little too."

Kitchen spends another day with literal waterworks, and Grimmy pads up and down the stairs relaying messages between him and Attic; assurances that everything will be okay and despair that all their hard work has been wasted. He tries to calm himself, distract himself, think of anything else.

\---

_He can feel his arms again. He can touch his face and see his legs and he doesn’t have that horrible weird_ connection _with the kitchen utensils that he’s felt all day. He doesn’t know what’s happened or why, and his instinct says that he has to get out of here before that_ woman _comes back, but he’s not sure that he could even stand at this point, he’s shaking so bad. So he curls into a ball and sobs, grabbing tight to his knees and praying that the_ woman _doesn’t hear him, doesn’t come back and trap him again before he can gather himself enough to get out of here._

_“Aww no, mate, you burned all o’ the toast!”_

_Harry startles and hits the back of his head against the cabinets he’s curled in front of, snapping his head up to get a look at the speaker._

_It’s not the woman. It’s a boy. Small frame and blond hair and digging through the bin in the corner._

_“Been smelling it all day! Hours and hours o’ buttery goodness and now you’re telling me you burned the whole loaf?” He’s looking at Harry with frantic despair. This boy Harry has never seen before is looking at him as if he’s just told him he’s sent his family to the spike._

_“I’m- I’m sorry?” he asks, entirely unsure what’s going on._

_“Y’should be!” he shouts. “You’re the kitchen, aren’t ya? I’d think the least you should be able to do is make some good toast!”_

_He looks miserable. Harry clearly has never met this boy before, but his instincts as a baker are kicking in. Nobody should be so miserable about food. “I can- I can make you something else?” he says. “Muffins, maybe? I didn’t break all of the eggs, and there’s some yeast…”_

_The stranger’s eyes light up. “Would you really? I haven’t had muffins in months!” Who is Harry to say no to that face?_

_Moving around the kitchen is odd, to say the least. He’s not a part of the room any more the way he was earlier, and feels disconnected. Whatever that woman did to him, made him part of the room or what have you, now that he’s not any more it feels odd trying to move around the space that he was intimately acquainted with only an hour before._

_Still, he makes quick work of mixing up a batter and lighting the oven. The boy watches with fascination._

_“So, Kitchen, what’s your story? Where are you from?” he asks as he tries to stick a finger in the batter._

_“I work at the bakery on Downs Street? My sister Gemma and I moved into town a couple of months ago- are you calling me Kitchen?” He stokes the fire in the oven, completely in his element. It’s soothing to do what he knows._

_“Because it’s what you are,” the boy says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The Witch stuck you in the kitchen just like she stuck me in the washroom. Which, you know, is really a little insulting. I don’t know what about me screamed_ loo _to her but-”_

 _Harry isn’t listening. He stopped listening a few words after_ witch _. It makes sense, really; a witch, a curse. But he’s feeling his insides crumble. Witches’ curses aren’t the kind one can just walk away from._

_The boy keeps talking. While Harry waits for the oven to heat up enough, the boy tells him his name is Niall and he’s lived in the house for three years. While he makes sure the muffins don’t burn or end up undercooked, Niall rambles on about food that he loves. While he waits for the muffins to cool, Niall speaks about the pranks he plays while being stuck in the washroom, how easy it is to burst a pipe at the right (or wrong) moment.  
Harry goes to taste one and realises that he can taste absolutely nothing. Panicking, he looks over at Niall, who has already devoured two. He shrugs. “You just have to concentrate,” he says. “The flavour’s there if you look hard enough. ‘S just a little hard as a ghost, is all.”_

\---

At dinner, Dad mentions that there's a deal going on at the local hardware store, and he's managed to get a man to come round tomorrow to evaluate the kitchen.

Harry runs to Louis in tears again when everyone is safely in their beds. Louis says that he has a plan.

"You see," Louis says. "They can't renovate the kitchen if they can't _find_ the kitchen."

Harry thinks this is not as genius a plan as the one the night before, but he's desperate. The new appliances they've installed over the years in Kitchen haven't gotten rid of his soul's attachment to the room, but surely an entire renovation will. Washroom had been the first to go, and he had disappeared just days after they replaced the wallpaper.

So Harry and Louis spend all night carrying boxes downstairs from the attic, until the kitchen is so full that no one could possibly make a cup of tea, even one without milk.

When morning comes, Kitchen does his best to manoeuvre around the boxes to cook bacon and pancakes. Son and Daughter are drawn early to the smell and devour most of it before their parents even make it downstairs.

"Thank you, Mum," Daughter says.

"You're welcome, sweetie," Mum replies, sipping her tea. "I sure am glad we're going ahead with this renovation," she says to Dad. "It's hard to find anything in here."

Kitchen gives up hope at this comment. He bursts into tears, completely shattering the pipes underneath the sink. Dad runs to shut the water off, saying the pipes must have frozen from the cold, and phones the man who's looking at the kitchen to see if he can come any earlier.

Kitchen feels absolutely mortified when the man arrives. He gets out a measuring tape and takes notes on everything. Kitchen suddenly feels much too large, like he should have not added those last appliances to the tables. He feels like no one has ever looked at him with such scrutiny before, such distaste in their eyes. This man clearly has no love for the Victorian feel that Kitchen prides himself on.

Mum, Dad and the man have lunch. They talk prices. They speak about styles. They mention phrases like "under the floor heating" and "water carbonator". Kitchen thinks he's going to be sick. Something rotten begins smelling strongly from the refrigerator. The man adds "new white goods" to the list.

\---

_The second night in the house, Harry meets the bedrooms._

_“Liam,” introduces one. He’s tall with cropped hair and kind eyes._

_“Zayn,” introduces the other, small with a skin tone that reminds Harry of Gemma’s fiancée, who’s family is from somewhere farther east than Harry could ever consider travelling. He has dark hair, dark eyes, and a mischievous smile._

_“I smelled beef stew,” Niall says, barging past them straight to the hob where Harry had left the last of the Witch’s dinner. Zayn rolls his eyes at Niall but he takes no heed._

_“We think he’s only fooling himself into thinking he can taste things,” he whispers conspiratorially to Harry._

\---

Harry doesn't feel he has any tears left that night when he goes to visit Louis. He figures this is a goodbye visit. He says as much when he walks up with Grimmy in his arms and Louis looks at him like he's gone completely batty.

"Of course this isn't goodbye," Louis says. "Are you completely batty?"

"No," Harry says. "I'm being renovated tomorrow. They've decided to start early because I'm such a mess."

"You're not," Louis says, patting Harry on the head (this is hard to do, because Louis is much shorter than Harry, but he finds a box to stand on first). "And anyway, I've saved my best plan for last. See this large amount of floorspace I've cleared?"

Harry looks around. "You mean where the boxes we took downstairs to stack in the kitchen came from?"

"Details," Louis says. "Minor details. The point is, I have been clearing space for you. You're going to live with me!" He looks absolutely triumphant, like nothing can possibly burst his bubble.

"I can't live here with you," Harry says. 

"Yes, you can," Louis counters. 

Harry shakes his head. "I'm stuck to the kitchen once the sun rises, you know that."

"Which is precisely why," Louis says, excitement growing in his voice, "We're going to move the kitchen up here!"

Harry looks at him like he's crazy. He is crazy. But Louis is already moving downstairs, so Harry follows him.

"This isn't going to work," Harry whispers as they pass the bedrooms on the second floor. "You can't just move a room!"

"Watch me!" Louis is not nearly as quiet as Harry. "I'm not losing my best friend over something as trivial as this. Grimmy is helping too, aren't you Grimmy?"

Padding beside them, Grimmy rolls his eyes. "If I must," he growls. "Only because otherwise they might throw out the pig spatulas. And because Harry makes the best tuna."

"That I do," says Harry.

They work harder and faster than the two previous nights. Louis dictates that they start with the inside of the cabinets and drawers, bringing all the silverware, utensils, cups and plates up. They move on to the serving set, china set, holiday set, and then the smaller appliances. Grimmy brings up his cans of tuna. Harry and Louis work together to get the small table and four chairs up the stairs. They move the microwave but can't budge the refrigerator, so quickly give up on that. Louis unscrews the cabinets and one by one they are carried up to the (now very overcrowded) attic too. The sink is still off so pulling the pipes up is easy. They bring those along. Louis even takes the doormat and wind chimes. It's when they're bringing up the last of the drawers that Harry feels a little tug on his heart as he leaves the room. It's not an emotional tug, it's more like a physical one, like someone has given it a squeeze.

"Oh!" he cries in surprise. It's the feeling that normally accompanies being pulled back to the kitchen when the sun rises, but there's clearly still an hour left until that. He checks the drawer and there's nothing in it, but he turns it over and finds a small white and pink note stuck to the underside. "Louis!" He hisses. "Louis, look at this!"

They both stare at the small piece of paper, probably almost a century old at this point.

"Is that it?" Harry asks. "Is that what's tying me here?"

Louis is grinning, which Harry thinks is a good sign. "Only one way to find out," he says. Take it to the attic and let's see what happens, yeah?"

\---

_The second family to move in after the witch died and left her house behind to fend for itself decides that the loo is terribly outdated._

_“I don’t like this,” Harry says to Louis as the five of them sit in the kitchen, their normal meeting area because Niall insists on getting the leftovers of whatever the family had for dinner._

_“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Love,” Louis is quick to reassure, although he doesn’t seem too certain. None of them do._

_It isn’t fine. The first night of the renovation, Niall is still there. He is the second night too. The third night, there’s only four of them. It feels much lonelier than it should._

__

\---

Harry feels another little tug when they make it all the way up there, like the paper - seal? - is adjusting his soul to fit in this new room, probably alongside Louis's. The two of them sit on the floor and watch the tiny circular window for the sun to rise, Harry sitting with Grimmy purring away in his lap. This is it and he knows it. Either he's done himself in already, and has no kitchen to return to, or his kitchen gets destroyed today and he'll still have no kitchen to return to, or he's made it safely to a new home.

There's silence and a quiet ticking of a clock on the floor below them, and the low rumble of Grimmy purring, and Harry thinks maybe he'll be okay anyway.

"Louis," Harry says, and Louis looks up at him from where he's sat on the floor going through and smelling all the kitchen spices. "Do you remember when we met?"

Louis smiles, and there's sadness in the smile but there's fondness too. "Of course I do. I’d been sulking for days because everybody had found this new ghost and thought he was more interesting than I was."

Harry laughs. "I’m very glad you got over that eventually. I was terrified there was this horrible mean ghost in the attic that absolutely hated me." He absentmindedly scratches behind Grimmy's ears and his purring grows louder. "I burned everything for weeks trying to get out of the kitchen the first couple weeks. Caught the table on fire at one point."

"Yeah, but you had us!" Louis says. "Niall found you first, didn’t he? That must have been an odd welcome."

"Yeah, he comes stomping into the kitchen the first night demanding that I stop burning everything because he can smell it and he's starving." Harry has to clap a hand over his mouth to stifle the giggles. "I don't think ghosts are even supposed to eat, I'll never understand how he and he alone would devour half the food in the kitchen every night. The witch never caught on, either, she was convinced there were foxes around here that kept getting in and filching from her."

"And then there was Liam and Zayn. They were the bedrooms and whenever I walked down stairs after the sun set the first thing I would see is kissing at least once on every available surface." Louis makes a gagging sound. "Always yelled at them to get a room. The least they could have done is not subject my poor eyes to their gross displays of affection."

"Yeah but then they _did_ get a room, and you would search through the whole house until you found them and demand they come be social because you were lonely with Niall eating all the food in the kitchen and me sulking about getting stuck."

"That I did," Louis says. "Good thing you got over that eventually."

"Well she finally installed my window, didn't she?" Harry says, admiring the dark sky from the small pane of glass that counts for an attic window. "At least I could see Gemma, back when she still lived down the road. That's all I've ever wanted."

"How many years do you think it's been?"

"Dunno. But I've seen my own great nephews pass by, so I'd say quite a while."

They're quiet for a bit after that, looking after their own thoughts, then Louis speaks up. 

"Harry, whatever happens tonight, I'm following you."

Harry looks at him incredulously, but Louis barrels on. "I'm serious! If I've messed everything up and that seal you have isn't what's holding you here, then I'm finding mine and tearing it up when you go. I'm not living here on my own."

"Hey!" interjects Grimmy.

"Shut it, cat. You've got the lifespan of a fly compared to me." He looks back at Harry. "The only reason I haven't tried to get out of this house is because you've still been here. I'm going wherever you go, okay?"

Harry reaches over and intertwines their fingers. "Sounds like you're not giving me much of a choice," she says.

Louis shakes his head. "I'm really not."

Harry smiles. "Good."

Then there's a speck of light on the horizon and Louis is gone already, a part of the framework of the attic. Harry feels the pull, wonders where it's leading. Leaving his body behind feels odd and unnatural today, like a haircut after years of growing it out. Everything feels lighter and unattached. He feels around himself and can feel a bit of the attic and a bit of the kitchen things that reside there. He hits a wall and figures that past that must be Louis's territory, and it feels a little warm, almost like he can feel the separate soul on the other side. He desperately regrets not having the stove all of a sudden because he's not sure how to talk without a whistling kettle, but Attic could always talk to Grimmy just fine so Kitchen figures there must be a way; squeaks in the floorboards or pops and hisses from the coil heater in the far corner, perhaps.

Then he realises exactly what this means. He's made it! He won't be renovated now, he's safe as long as that one drawer with the seal on the bottom is up here. He could jump for joy and kiss the ceiling if he still had a body to do so. Instead he flickers the microwave lights and rattles the cutlery. Grimmy blinks a sleepy eye at him and settles inside a cardboard box nearby. Attic welcomes him with a light show from the different lamps stashed around the room. Kitchen feels giddy and excited and new again.

Downstairs, Mum and Dad think someone must have started renovating early. They go get breakfast from the local coffee shop for them and the kids, although everyone comments how the croissants aren't as good as the ones Mum makes. The kids get lunch money and Mum and Dad eat out, and when dinner comes they order Chinese. The kitchen stays dark and empty except when someone comes in at four to start tearing out the appliances. They figure Dad must have started without them. Dads tend to do that.

That day, Attic teaches Kitchen how to speak through the squeaking of the floorboards. Kitchen thinks how much it sounds like Attic's real voice, while the only thing that came close for himself was speaking through the busted pipes. They exchange anecdotes about when they were little, ones they've heard countless times before, but it's different now because everything feels a little lighter. Kitchen makes Grimmy tuna, sprucing it up a little more than usual because it's the only food he gets to prepare now. That makes him a little sad, but those feelings are soon trumped by the knowledge that he's not left on his own through the middle of the day anymore. He's got Attic and Grimmy pretty much all the time now.

When darkness falls and Louis and Harry rematerialize in their spectral forms again, they celebrate by going downstairs and taking a look at the kitchen that's just another part of the dull house now. Harry already feels separate from the room in a way he's never felt before, more so than when he’s been in his spectral form before even, and it's a little sad but Louis's here and it's all okay. They go back up to the attic and Louis shows Harry an old box of poetry books and they read to one another (Grimmy looks at them disdainfully, but then again, cats can’t read). 

While Louis mocks Grimmy by reading from T.S. Eliot's Book of Practical Cats, Harry fishes out the drawer that he so carefully placed the night before, the one with the paper on the bottom sealing him to the house. He sets his hand on it and can feel the thrum of a heartbeat he thought he'd lost ages ago.

"Harry," Louis says warily. "What are you doing?"

"I'm thinking," Harry says, and before he can properly think through anything, he does a very stupid thing indeed. He peels the seal off the back of the drawer.

It comes off almost as easily as an old sticker, the kind that have long since lost whatever really made them stick, and Harry feels a little woozy. He no longer feels like this was a good idea. But suddenly Louis’s there and he’s lifting Harry’s shirt just enough to show his stomach and sticks the seal straight onto him. 

And _well_ , who knew the world was so bright and colourful as this? Louis's eyes are much more green than Harry had ever thought possible, and Grimmy's oddly curly fur is much more defined than he ever realised. He stares at Louis in wonder and Louis does the same back at him.

"Harry," Louis breathes. "You're an absolute idiot!" and he gets up and smacks Harry across the back of his head. "You didn't know what was going to happen when you did that! You could have just killed yourself!" He steps back and gives Harry the once-over. "And I don't think you're a ghost anymore!" His tone is maybe a little reproachful but also maybe a little excited, Harry can't really tell.

He looks down to see what Louis is talking about; he's no longer transparent but as solid as everything else in the attic. He breathes in and feels his chest expand with something inside of it, instead of just the practiced empty motions. "I'm not sure I quite am, still," he says slowly. "I think... I think I'm just possessing my own spirit? Like, I'm still in this seal."  
"Come on," Louis says, grabbing her hand and dragging him down the stairs. They get to the front hall and Louis wrenches the door open. "Well?" He asks.  
Harry sticks a hand to the entryway and is met with no resistance, which hasn't happened before. "Yeah," Harry says. He takes a step outward and cool night air hits hid face. "I can! I can leave!" He looks back at Louis excitedly. "Come on, Lou, we know your seal is somewhere in the attic. We can get out of here!"

Louis looks like he was expecting Harry to just leave him then and there, and his face lights up like the sun. "Yeah!" He takes Harry's hand again and they take the stairs two at a time back up, not even caring how much noise they're making.

"Lou," Harry says as they comb through the oldest boxes. "I think this means they're still out there, they must be." He goes for examining the backs of the picture frames. "There's no way this seal would have stayed this way without magic keeping it together, I bet no one's seal has actually gotten destroyed."

"So what's your plan, then?" Louis asks, up to his shoulders in an old trunk.

Harry considers. It’s been a long time since Liam and Zayn, it’s been an especially long time since Niall. But over the years they became closer than family, and the feeling that they’re out there somewhere lights a fire in his heart. It’s terrifying, taking a step out that door, but this house isn’t his home anymore, not really. He took on the role of Kitchen for years because being a baker was all he had known how to be, even before being stuck in this house, but this feels more important than that. They’re out there, they must be.

"I say we go looking for them," Harry says. "I think I'm still a ghost, so we're practically immortal, right? They've got to be out there somewhere, probably stuck in a rubbish dump."

Louis nods. "Wherever you go, I'll follow, you know that." he tells Harry.

\---

It's two days before they find Louis's seal, stuck under one of the floorboards. It's a weird two days with Harry just sitting in the room while Attic speaks through floorboards and tries to trip Harry up by moving the boxes he sits on. They leave the night they find it, and Grimmy comes with them. He says Mum and Dad are just too boring, and insists that when they find everyone they're looking for, they can all settle down on a farm and raise pigs. Grimmy seems to have an obsession with pigs.

Back at the house, Mum and Dad spend months on the perfect design, flip flopping between options. When the kitchen's done, it's beautiful. It's everything they've ever dreamed of. But something about it is off, something they can never put their name on. They keep forgetting to make meals, and the food's just not as good as it was before. They reminisce about the good old days. 

It takes a year to find Zayn and Liam. Their rooms had been renovated at the same time so their seals were stuck close together at a rubbish dump. It's another two weeks of going through the dump before they actually locate the seals.

It takes the four of them (five, with Grimmy) another two years to find Niall, whose seal has apparently made it all the way to Ireland where the sink from the old washroom is now being used in a pub. Niall is perfectly happy haunting the pub toilets, but at the mention that the four of them can now eat real food, and not just spectrally consume it (which Niall says only gives about half the flavour), he follows them gladly.

The five (six) of them do settle on a farm, if only because of the wide open spaces it offers. They've all had more than enough time being cooped up in a house. Grimmy meets pigs for the first time, considers them absolute fools, and a week later drags home a puppy he's named Pig. The puppy is not intelligent in any way, which Grimmy says is why he likes it. Everybody wonders how he thinks he'll take care of the dog once it's bigger than he is, but nobody questions him.

They spend a lot of mornings watching the sun rise.

**Author's Note:**

> [LondonFoginaCup](londonfoginacup.tumblr.com) on tumblr!
> 
> Well, you made it to the end of this disaster of a fic! Congratulations! I knew you could do it! And thank you, sincerely, because sometimes I write things that go in really odd directions, and it's nice to know that someone would take the time to read them.
> 
> If you're so inclined, you can reblog the fic post [here](http://londonfoginacup.tumblr.com/post/157637488919/down-the-backs-of-tabletops-and-ticket-stubs)!


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